


If He Breaks Your Heart

by jenkoandschmidt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Artist Steve, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Smut, Sort Of, Top Steve Rogers, Unrequited Love, Writer Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenkoandschmidt/pseuds/jenkoandschmidt
Summary: He should’ve left hours ago, it was how things would normally go when they did this. But he’d stayed. He was lucky Steve had fallen asleep before he could notice that Bucky was staying for much longer than usual. Bucky doesn’t know why he hasn’t gotten up and gone home yet, but at the same time, he knows exactly why. It’s also what makes him want to get up and leave.ORSteve and Bucky have been in a friends with benefits situation for almost a year now, and Bucky comes to the realisation that he's falling in love with Steve.





	1. Chapter 1

The alarm clock on the bedside read three twenty seven AM. Faint orange streaks of light from the street lamp outside seeped through the dark, heavy curtains that hung closed over the window. It was relatively quiet — for Manhattan — yet Bucky Barnes found himself wide awake and staring at the ceiling. Beside him, Steve Rogers was fast asleep, his naked back facing Bucky.

He should’ve left hours ago, it was how things would normally go when they did this. But he’d stayed. He was lucky Steve had fallen asleep before he could notice that Bucky was staying for much longer than usual. Bucky doesn’t know why he hasn’t gotten up and gone home yet, but at the same time, he knows exactly why. It’s also what makes him want to get up and leave. It’s a confusing ordeal.

Tonight had been different. Usually, when they do this, it’s rushed and spontaneous. It’s what happens at the end of a drunken night. It’s something meaningless and mindless, something to ease one or the other after a stressful day. It’s what Bucky expects whenever Steve calls him up now.

But tonight had felt … softer. Slower. Like they had all the time in the world. It started off oddly, too. Usually, they start making out the second Bucky steps into Steve’s apartment. Instead, Steve had given Bucky a slice of pizza and sat on the couch, eyes glued to the TV screen. He’d said to Bucky, ‘Sorry, I kinda started watching it without you,’ and nodded towards the screen. Silver Linings Playbook was on, and Steve had acted like it was a regular occurrence between them to sit and watch a movie before they’d tear each other’s clothes off and stumble towards the bedroom.

It’d felt like a date, or something else cheesy and domestic, like a cosy night in. But it didn’t mean that Bucky didn’t enjoy it. Steve had a good movie on and good food. He was also great company. Bucky discovered that night that he was incredibly fond of the way Steve looked when he was laughing, with his wide smile and eyes crinkling in delight. He hadn’t thought much of it then, blaming his arousal on his sudden adoration for the way Steve laughed. When they’d kissed later on, it was slow and tentative. It was delicate and gentle, like the way Steve held the side of his face. It was so unlike their previous encounters, Bucky didn’t know what to make of it. All he knew was that he wanted more.

Bucky exhaled a deep sigh, continuing to glare at the ceiling, desperate for answers to questions he’s afraid to ask aloud. _What the hell happened tonight? Is this how it’s gonna be from now on? Are we gonna watch each and every Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper film before I rim his ass?_

Bucky was startled out of his thoughts as Steve shifted in his sleep, turning now to face Bucky. The side of his soft face was squished against the pillow, his golden hair mussed from moving around, pink mouth open slightly. He had ached to reach over and brush the pad of his thumb across Steve’s lips, to smooth back the hair that fell across his forehead, to caress the skin of his cheek. He had wondered what that would be like. Would his fingers spark with electricity? Would he feel any different? Would he feel nothing at all? Just hair and skin and lips. Steve would never know, either. He’d still remain fast asleep and be unaware of Bucky’s ministrations.

Bucky frowned. It wasn’t as if he’d never in his life touched Steve. Just hours ago they were intimately close. Pressed flush against one another in shameless desire. Why was Bucky’s sudden urge to reach out and touch Steve different? Why had tonight been any different than previous nights? Steve and Bucky had remained the same all throughout, there was no significant changes between them. They were still Steve and Bucky. Steve, with his dark sense of humour, his love for 2000s rom-coms and pizza rolls, and who liked to drink water instead of literally anything else. And Bucky, who liked Star Wars and science fiction novels as well as bubble tea and complicated Starbucks orders, and who had suddenly, with dread at the bottom of his gut, realised that he might be falling for Steve.

 

*

 

Bucky didn’t leave Steve’s apartment until five thirty, when the birds had started to chirp and the sky was beginning to appear brighter. He had hastily put his clothes on, in the rush to leave the apartment. He hadn’t had time to check his appearance in the mirror. He hadn’t slept at all, so he was sure his eyes would look sunken and bloodshot. He knew his clothes were rumpled and messy, as they had been tossed carelessly to the floor the night before, but knowing that Steve would be awake very soon for his early morning run, he couldn’t risk staying and being caught _still_ there. What was he going to say to explain that? ‘Sorry Steve, I didn’t mean to stay over. But, I guess it doesn’t count as really staying the night, though, because I never fall asleep, because I had this sudden epiphany that I’m starting to fall for you.’

Bucky cringed. It was too soon to be carelessly admitting it, even to himself. He wasn’t even sure he was okay with it. Should he be? Is it something he’s going to live with for the rest of his life? What if he doesn’t want this? What if this is the last thing he wants in the world? What if Steve doesn’t want this either? What if Steve doesn’t feel the same? Bucky stopped. He’d been walking back to his apartment from the subway and he had completely stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He was wrong. He does want it. And maybe it will take time to get used to the idea of it. But the thought that Steve wouldn’t feel the same hurt Bucky. He can admit that, at least.

 

When Bucky arrived at his apartment, he’d immediately fallen to his bed and finally dozed off as the sun had risen.

 

*

 

At around two in the afternoon, Bucky had woken up. His phone had only three messages, two from Sam and one from Barton. The two texts from Sam had been a double text in which Sam had asked if Bucky wanted lunch (three hours ago). The text from Barton had been a reminder to submit next week’s Monday love advice column to him before five tomorrow. Bucky decided to ignore Barton and chose to reply to Sam instead, quickly typing: _Still up for lunch? We could go to Ross’s_.

Bucky worked as a columnist for a lifestyle magazine. It wasn’t at Cosmopolitan level, but it was certainly earning its spot on the shelves. He had been working with the magazine since the summer of his senior year in college as an intern, and after he had graduated, they had offered him a job. Barton was a pain in the ass, but also his editor … and also his friend.

Sam quickly replied to Bucky’s text with: _Seriously? You reply now?_ and after a few seconds, _Alright, be there in fifteen, but you’re paying._  
Bucky grinned a little at that.

 

He had arrived first at the diner, sitting in a booth against the window, watching as people walked along the sidewalk, bundled up in their sweaters and coats. When Sam arrived, they ordered and ate while chatting amicably, talking about things like, ‘Went out to that place Nat keeps talking about’ and ‘Got the new iOS update and I’m kinda mad about it’.  
Bucky struggled to keep awake the entire time. Sam had noticed and cracked during dessert.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong with you? You look ready to die, did you not get enough sleep or something? You know how you get when you don’t sleep.’  
Bucky sighed, looking down at his sundae bowl. ‘I don’t know. I got around eight hours of sleep actually, so … I don’t know.’  
‘What were you doing this morning?’ Sam asked.  
‘Sleeping. I just woke up when I texted you,’ Bucky confessed with a tired huff.  
‘So you went to bed at dawn? You’ve gotta be kidding me,’ Sam furrowed his brows at Bucky in disbelief.  
‘I couldn’t sleep last night,’ Bucky mumbled as shoved his face into his hands, taking a deep breath.  
‘What the hell were you doing then?’ Sam asked, taking a sip out of his coke.  
Bucky looked up at him, stared into his brown eyes and considered whether he should tell his best friend that he had feelings for his booty call. He also considered not telling Sam. He could wait it out for a few days, see what he was feeling then. Maybe this sudden burst of feelings towards Steve had only been a result of his lack of sleep. Maybe he could just sleep it off. Okay, that sounded incredibly ridiculous, even in his own head, but he had only come to this realisation less than twelve hours ago, maybe it really was nothing. He had been working late the night before he was with Steve, he’d barely gotten three hours of sleep, maybe it was that.

Before he could overthink it any further, he replied, ‘I was with Steve.’  
‘Goddamn!’ Sam exclaimed with a sour expression on his face. ‘What the hell are you two up to to make you so tired even with eight hours’ sleep?’  
Bucky opened his mouth to reply, but Sam cut him off, ‘No, wait. I just remembered, I don’t want to know. I’d be better off not knowing, actually.’  
‘Okay, it’s not what you think,’ Bucky began and Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. ‘It was actually quite different from what we usually do.’  
‘What, you didn’t have sex?’ Sam asked.  
‘No we did, but … it was really weird because when I got to his place, he had pizza on the coffee table and a movie on,’ Bucky explained.  
‘So?’ Sam asked.  
‘So, we usually skip straight to the sex when I get there. There’s no food or entertainment,’ Bucky elaborated.  
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Sam argued, wagging his finger at Bucky, ‘the sex is the entertainment.’  
Bucky had almost little to no tolerance and perseverance to keep himself from smacking the back of Sam’s head. He told him as much.  
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Sam giggled. ‘Continue.’

Bucky explained how the sex had felt different, how it had been more romantic and intimate. That it had a different energy (Sam had scoffed at that — ‘Energy, what like a crystal?’ Bucky had to remind him of his currently low tolerance) to it compared to literally every single one of their encounters before.

‘I stayed,’ Bucky murmured. ‘I don’t usually stay for longer than I have to, just get it done and go, but I stayed. Until dawn, basically.’  
Sam was quiet this time, assessing Bucky subtly and wordlessly. Bucky squirmed under his slightly scrutinising stare.  
‘What do you think about all this? What’s going through your mind right this second about what you just told me?’ Sam asked after a while.  
‘I think … I might have feelings for him? Romantically?’ Bucky said quietly. ‘But at the same time, I don’t know. What if it’s just a fleeting thing? What if there’s really nothing there at all? What if it’s all in my head?’  
‘Why don’t you just wait it out before you do anything about it?’ Sam suggested, leaning over the table a little. ‘Give it two weeks, before you figure out what’s really going on between the two of you.’  
‘Or one of us,’ Bucky muttered darkly.  
‘Or one of you,’ Sam echoed kindly. That was nice of him. Bucky appreciated that.

‘What do I do then? If it’s still there in two weeks?’ Bucky asked, a little hopefully, fiddling with his thumbs.  
‘If you’re not ready or need more time after two weeks, we can wait longer,’ Sam said. ‘But how about we just wait for the two weeks to come before we figure out what to do, okay?’  
‘Okay,’ Bucky nodded, and resumed to silently eating his sundae. Before he could forget, he quietly added, ‘Thank you.’  
Sam smiled a small and kind smile at him, before beginning to change the subject to complain about his landlord and the shitty heating in his apartment.

 

  
*

 

Steve called Bucky three days after Bucky and Sam had lunch. It was the same as last time — minus the movie and pizza rolls. It had started as it usually would that Bucky had begun to conclude that maybe the whole romance and feelings thing was all in his head. Steve had taken him by the hand as soon as Bucky entered, and pressed him gently against the back of the door, kissing him softly, but fiercely. Steve was slow to take Bucky’s clothes off too, just standing in the hallway, leaning against the door and softly making out with him. The gnawing feeling buried inside Bucky flourished the longer Steve would kiss him and touch him and breathe softly into the kisses. Steve had lightly tugged on the shirt Bucky was wearing, pulling away from Bucky, with his lips flushed pink and swollen and glossy with saliva. He was careful to take Bucky’s shirt off, and he was just as gentle in taking his own shirt off.

Before they resumed kissing, Steve had looked at Bucky for a moment too long, but it was a moment that would forever be embossed in his memory, an image he wouldn’t be able to forget, even if he tried to. Steve had looked at Bucky with soft, perhaps even affectionate eyes. He didn’t break eye contact once — not to look at Bucky’s shirtless torso, not to stare at Bucky’s equally plump and pink lips, not even to just look at the ground. He had held Bucky’s gaze in that moment and just stared, with a light twinkle in his eyes and the smallest of smiles on his lips. And god, if he thought that his feeling about Steve was fleeting and not real before, he definitely knew for certain now, that he was falling for him, and that it was inescapable.

 

*

 

After that night, it happened again four times in the span of a month. In the whole month since that night, Bucky had learned that: Steve gets really handsy when they have sex like this. That he loves to roam his hands all over Bucky’s body. Bucky also learnt that Steve is _really_ into kissing, would never let himself be without Bucky’s lips if it was possible. And it’s not just Bucky’s lips he’ll kiss, it’ll be his neck, his collar bones — any stretch of skin available on Bucky’s body, he will let his lips latch on. Another thing Bucky learnt was that Steve was a lot louder when they did it this way. He made a lot more noise and it was the most beautiful thing Bucky would ever hear in his life. Steve would moan into his neck, long and high and breathless, and Bucky would go crazy for it.

And every single time, when they were finished and just laying on the bed, their breathing resuming its usual rate, Bucky would look over at Steve — who would be looking up at nothing, smiling a bit — and fall for him just a little more.

One time, Steve had looked right back at Bucky, his smile growing slightly wider, and he asked, ‘What?’  
Bucky had to fight the urge to confess all the thoughts in his head from the past month. Instead, he licked his lips, smiled at Steve, and said, ‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’  
Steve’s grin had widened impossibly at that, and he resumed to looking up at the ceiling.

As the month had progressed, Bucky had found it harder, and harder each time to leave when they had finished. He liked to linger a little, and ignore the fact that he had to leave. Steve never pushes for him to leave, though, and he’s thankful for that. But it always crushes him a bit whenever Steve is over at his place, and he doesn’t hesitate to leave right after they fuck. Sure, he lingers just like Bucky does (albeit for a shorter amount of time), and he smiles and laughs at the dumb things they talk about while they come down from their highs. Maybe all Bucky wants from him is more … who is he kidding? That’s exactly what he wants. Bucky supposes that he can’t really blame Steve for not knowing how he feels or … not feeling the same way as Bucky. It wasn’t like it was part of their unspoken agreement.

Still, he can’t help but wish Steve did stay for a while longer, even if it was just a minute more. He also can’t help but wonder what it would be like if they both just fell asleep. The long mind numbing days at work (added with their sex marathons) finally catching up to them. Maybe in the night, when they’re deeply asleep and dead to the world, they would unconsciously inch closer until their bodies were intertwined. Maybe Bucky would have his face buried in Steve’s chest, and maybe Steve would wrap his arms protectively around Bucky. Maybe their legs would be tangled, and maybe Steve would lightly and soothingly rub at Bucky’s back …

Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky realises he's definitely falling in love with Steve.

Bucky and Sam were sat in a coffee shop this time, by the window once again, but in silence. Sam was waiting patiently for Bucky to speak. Bucky was busy cradling his mug of coffee to warm up his hands. Outside, the pavement was littered lightly with snow. The coffee shop was adorned with Christmas decorations and occasionally, a Christmas-y song would play over the speakers. 

 

‘I think I’m definitely falling for him,’ Bucky whispered into his mug, avoiding Sam’s eye. When his two weeks were up, he asked Sam for another two because he wasn’t sure how he exactly felt. Sam, being the most understanding and patient man on the planet (really, Bucky didn’t deserve him), agreed and told him that they’ll eventually work it out, that Bucky didn’t need to rush to find out what he was feeling. That the truth will unfold in its own time.

‘You think? Or you know?’ Sam asked, giving Bucky his full attention.

‘I know. I — we’ve been doing this for a while?’ Bucky said, peeking up at Sam meekly. ‘Like since last spring, and I …’ he sighed, before looking down again and frowning at his coffee. ‘Maybe I’m falling in love with him.’ 

‘Oh,’ was all Sam could say. 

‘And I know it’s weird, I mean, I don’t really know him outside of the sex and some other basic facts, but I do think that this is where it’s going, that I’m falling in love with him,’ Bucky confessed. He had come to the realisation that he might definitely be falling in love with Steve when he’d made that little scenario about what it’d be like if they fell asleep together. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t shocked or unsettled by the idea, he had just accepted it.

‘That’s a lot,’ Sam managed to say softly. ‘You’re sure this is what it could be? Love.’

‘I just want more, Sam. More than what it’s like between us at the moment.’

They were engulfed in silence once more, Sam taking in the information and taking a sip from his mug. The song on the speakers changed to a light, acoustic cover of a hit song. At the counter, someone was flirting with the barista, laughing quietly. All the while, Bucky shrunk more into himself as he waited for Sam’s response.

 

‘When did you come to the realisation that you were in love with him?’ Sam asked after a stretch of silence. He had leaned back on his chair and brought his hands together at the edge of the table.

‘Five days ago,’ Bucky replied immediately. Sam frowned.

‘Wait,’ he said, ‘you knew about this _five_ days ago, and you didn’t think to tell me then?’

Bucky shrugged a little self-consciously, ‘Well, you were busy all of the five days and I didn’t just want to text it to you.’

Sam was grinning at him in disbelief. It helped ease Bucky’s nerves and rapidly beating heart. He had been worried earlier of Sam’s judgement, of what he would say, of what might change between them after his confession. Of course, the rational part of him knew that Sam had his back no matter what, but the other, less rational part of him liked to jump to horrible conclusions in which he always ended up alone.

‘Huh,’ Sam said, ‘you’re an asshole, Barnes.’ Bucky chuckled at his friend’s remark. 

‘So, you’re falling in love with him,’ Sam continued. 

‘I am,’ Bucky exhaled, nervously and excitedly all at the same time.

‘Does he feel the same way?’ Sam asked and when a mildly unsettled expression took form on Bucky’s face, he quickly continued, ‘Doesn’t have to be in love with you, just — do you think he wants to be involved in a serious romantic relationship with you?’

‘I … feel as though he does. I mean, there’s gotta be a reason why some of the sex has changed a little, right? Why he looks at me a little longer than usual? He’s gotta be into me,’ Bucky rambled, biting at the nail on his thumb anxiously. It made sense, right? No couple involved in a friends with benefits situation looked longer than necessary into the other’s eyes, or kissed just a little more passionately than they would normally. Unless it’s all in Bucky’s imagination, which — _fuck,_ what if it was all in his imagination? No, that’d be completely absurd, considering Bucky’s noticed this over several occasions, he’s certain Steve feels the same.

 

‘Well of course he’s into you, man,’ Sam exclaimed. ‘You two are boning each other, I don’t think this would’ve happened if he _wasn’t_ into you.’

‘Yes, but I mean … as a boyfriend?’ Bucky whispered the last part, cringing slightly at how juvenile he was being. Sam leaned over and looked Bucky dead in the eye.

‘Look, I don’t really know what the deal is between you two, so I can’t judge for myself on how he feels about you based on the limited information I have of your interactions,’ Sam began, inhaling deeply before continuing, ‘the only helpful thing I can say is that you need to talk to him. You two are the only ones who can figure this out.’

Bucky only nodded silently (although with worrisome eyes) in response. 

*

Bucky had met Steve through Natasha. Natasha had been one of Bucky’s first college friends. They had an English Lit class together and had bonded over their sarcastic remarks against the shitty substitute that sometimes went in. In the second semester of their freshman year, they started working together at a coffee shop off campus. They’re quite close, but Bucky wouldn’t exactly call her his best friend, the way he would with Sam— and that’s in no way an insult to Natasha, she actually feels the same way. They’re simply just close friends.

 

Natasha first introduced Bucky to Steve during the summer of their senior year. It was at a housewarming party for Nat and Steve’s new apartment which they had only moved into a day before. Bucky had arrived a little late, knocking on the heavy wooden door with a wine bottle in his hand. Natasha had opened the door with a smile and said, ‘So glad you’re here, James!’ and pulled him into the house and directed him to the kitchen, where Steve had been opening a box of pizza. 

‘Steve, this is my friend James, James, this is my roommate, Steve,’ Natasha quickly introduced them before promptly slipping away.

Steve had shaken Bucky’s hand and offered him a slice of pizza, and they made small talk for a few minutes before Natasha had returned and whisked Bucky away for a tour of their apartment.  

It wasn’t love at first sight, or whatever the hell else you might call it. It was quite boring, actually. Bucky had just taken one look at Steve, acknowledged that he was attractive, and carried on with his life. At the time, Bucky had been dating a guy named Alex, it really wouldn’t have been fair to Alex if Bucky was obsessively crushing on someone else.

Since they met, Steve and Bucky’s friendship hadn’t exceeded past amicable. They were at best, acquaintances. They only really ever saw each other when Natasha was around. There wasn’t much of a point in taking their friendship up a notch, they hardly knew each other.

The status of their relationship really began to change in the spring of last year. Tony Stark had invited them all to one of his family’s estates up north for a weekend. Summer was just around the corner, and it had already been an unbearably hot spring, so the idea of relaxing in an air-conditioned estate with a swimming pool was heaven to Bucky.  

Surprisingly, it had been an intimate event, Tony had invited only his closest friends, which was rare for him. Tony was known for his extravagant parties with everyone and their mothers welcome. Though, it made sense for him to want to relax a little — everyone’s brains had been fried at that point due to the humidity and high temperatures in the city, not to mention the presence of finals looming over their heads. 

Bucky couldn’t keep himself from glancing at Steve every so often when they were in the pool — no, actually, the entire time. Steve had ditched his shirt the whole weekend and walked around in tiny red shorts. Unfortunately for him, Steve had noticed his blatant staring and had brought it up on their last day. _Very_ fortunately for him, Steve had confronted Bucky by leading him into the guest house and shoving him against the wall and smashing their lips together. That had been where it all began. Bucky had thought that Steve wasn’t really into guys and that kiss had proven him wrong. 

From the beginning, it had always been something fun between them. Something they didn’t really need to think twice or worry about. Their fun had continued all throughout the summer, up until now, when the weather was so cold, Bucky felt as though his ears were about to fall off.

Bucky’s happy that things changed between them, that all of that happened. He just hoped Steve felt the same way

*

Bucky tossed around the phone in his hands, debating with himself whether or not he should call Steve so that he can talk to him about … his feelings. It’s a completely suicidal idea, and might also just be the best thing that will ever happen to Bucky. See, for one thing, if Steve _does_ feel the same way, they would end up dating and falling in love, yada yada yada. For another, if Steve _doesn’t_ feel the same way, then Bucky will just have completely humiliated himself in front of Steve and he’ll never be able to face him again. It would also be incredibly heartbreaking.

There was also the option that Bucky could just _not_ tell Steve at all, keep it a complete secret. He could live his whole life avoiding telling Steve. Or even better, he could wait until Steve himself confesses his own feelings for Bucky — which Bucky is not even 100% sure of yet… hmm, yeah no. He quickly tosses that idea away into a fire pit because he knows he wouldn’t be able to live without knowing what would’ve happened if he’d told Steve, and also, the latter of the two ideas was pretty fucking dumb. He wasn’t going to wait around for Steve to do something about it, he was going to do it himself.

Unlocking his phone and scrolling through his contacts list, Bucky began searching for Steve’s name, when his phone suddenly rang. 

Caller ID showed that it was Steve. Of course it was. 

‘Hello?’ he answered.

‘Bucky, hey! Are you able to come over tonight?’ Steve asked. This could not have come at a better time.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Bucky replied casually, even though his nerves had allowed for his heart to jump into his throat. ‘Is nine good?’

‘Yep. Alright, see you later.’

‘See ya.’ Steve promptly hung up after Bucky’s mumbled goodbye. 

Well, that was sorted, and easily too. Bucky was going to go to Steve’s house, and tell him how he feels. No matter how insanely anxious and terrified he was of the idea, and how horrible he thought it was. Because worst case scenario (and the only scenario playing out in his head at that moment because the irrational side of his brain had taken over) was that Steve would reject him, laugh at such a prospect, and in turn Bucky would be humiliated and be minus a friend at the end of the night. 

 

Wonderful.

 

He called Sam. On the fifth ring, Sam picked up.

‘Hey man,’ he greeted.

‘Sam!’ Bucky was unable to hide the slight panic in his voice. 

‘Y’alright?’ Sam asked warily over the phone.

‘I’m going to his house tonight,’ Bucky declared confidently.

‘Okay?’ Sam replied, confused. ‘Do you need a ride home from Steve’s tonight? W-what’s going on?’

‘I’m going to tell him how I feel,’ Bucky explained.

‘Oh, that’s great Bucky, you’re taking my advice and talking it out with him,’ Sam said cheerfully. 

‘Thank you. I thought I’d tell someone so that I won’t back out on doing it.’

‘Hey, good luck man, I believe in you!’ Sam said. Bucky had laughed nervously before bidding Sam a goodbye and hanging up on him after.

*

When Bucky had arrived at Steve’s house, he’d decided to tell Steve _after_ they were finished having sex. After all, it’s what Steve’d been expecting when he’d called and it’s not like Bucky had mentioned over the phone that he wanted to talk to him about something. 

Actually, Bucky _had_ considered speaking to Steve before the sex happened because it seemed more important at the time. But that was before Steve had opened the door to his apartment, pulled Bucky in, slammed the door and Bucky against it so that he could latch his lips on Bucky’s heatedly. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault that Steve was just _so_ damn delicious and that Bucky honest to god had zero self control when it came to Steve.  

So, they followed their routine as usual: making out against the door for about three minutes, followed by stumbling towards Steve’s bedroom for a minute — maybe a minute and a half — while they tried to remove one another’s clothes, and then finally reaching the bedroom where they would spend the rest of their evening with Steve pounding Bucky into the mattress. 

At the end of it all, when they come down from their highs and the urgency of sex decreases with every passing minute, the more important reason for Bucky’s being there suddenly makes itself blatantly apparent and sits itself heavily on his chest until he finds it hard to breathe, and is suffocating under the weight of it. The only way to get rid of it would be to turn over and confess the true nature of his feelings to Steve. 

Somehow, with Steve by his side, Bucky finds it impossible to open his mouth and utter the words he’d been rehearsing in his mirror mere hours before he’d arrived at Steve’s. It’s easy to _think_ about saying it, but it’s also _very_ easy to think about if Steve had a negative reaction to it. And what’s with the rush in telling Steve? Things are going great between them at the moment. The sex is awesome, what more could Bucky want? He’d be asking too much if he dumped his emotions all over Steve and expected him to do something about it.  

Okay, he was being foolish and dramatic. Bucky wants a great deal more than just the sex. He wants the whole thing. Dates, holding hands, kissing because they can, going to things as a couple. The irrational side of his brain had taken over for a moment. He also didn’t really expect Steve to handle his emotions for him, Bucky could do that on his own. It’s just that, it would be nice if Steve felt the same way. Actually, it would be absolutely wonderful if he did. Because that’s the whole point of this isn’t it? Bucky wants Steve. And Bucky wants Steve to want him back. It’s very simple, it didn’t require some immensely elaborate reasoning or thought. It was just a matter of want. 

‘Bucky?’ Steve spoke softly, interrupting his thoughts. He had stopped panting by this point and had turned his head to face Bucky, who had been looking up at the ceiling in deep, conflicted thought until Steve’s voice floated in through his ears.

‘Yeah?’ Bucky said, looking over at Steve. There it was again, the soft lingering gaze. It was such a powerful and dangerous stare, for such a delicate expression. Because if Steve gave him that look and asked Bucky to run away with him, he would, without question. He’d only nod and take his hand. Steve could present him with that stare and ask him of the world, and Bucky would give it to him on a silver platter and ask if he wanted more. God, he could _drown_ in Steve’s eyes.

_Well_ , Bucky thought, _here goes nothing._

‘Steve I —’

‘Are you going to Tony’s Christmas party?’ Steve said at the same time.

‘What?’ Bucky asked.

‘Wait, I’m so sorry, what were you going to say?’ Steve was wide eyed and apologetic. Bucky stared right back at him, frozen, and mouth hanging open. 

Say it. _Just say it_. C’mon, you didn’t travel across the fucking river to get to Steve’s cushy Manhattan apartment for _nothing_.

Steve was looking expectantly at him, but also with slight confusion, because _right!_ Bucky was taking eons to respond to a simple question because his goddamn brain was short circuiting because he was overthinking the entire situation before him.

‘I uh … was actually going to ask you the same thing,’ Bucky lied. Sorry, Sam. God, where had all that courage gone? It had graced his presence for a mere moment before fluttering away and literally leaving him speechless in front of Steve.

‘Oh,’ Steve said. ‘Yeah, I am. I’ve missed two of Tony’s Christmas parties in a row and from memory they were all really fun. Also, Tony wouldn’t stop telling me just how “amazing” they were over the last few weeks in order to convince me to go this time.’

‘Yeah, they really are,’ Bucky recalls. ‘I’m also going, by the way. I feel like the parties really do keep getting better and better every year.’

‘I’m sorry, am I speaking to Tony Stark?’ Steve joked with a giggle. Bucky joined in and laughed with him.

‘You know what, I feel like maybe that’s why he’s doing them,’ Bucky grinned.

‘What do you mean?’ Steve asked, pinching his brows together. It was adorable. 

‘He keeps making his parties better and better in the hopes that you’d show.’

Steve let out a derisive snort at that. Bucky couldn’t stop himself from cackling at the ridiculous notion. Although, Tony is ridiculous, Bucky wouldn’t put it past him to do something like this.

‘It’d be like a Gatsby and Daisy type of thing,’ Bucky continued, as Steve groaned and shut his eyes together at the idea.

‘That’s so dumb, Bucky,’ Steve said. ‘What d’you think’ll happen now that I’m finally attending one of his Christmas parties, after two long years?’

Bucky shrugged, ‘Well, my guess is that you’ll have an affair with him and eventually your husband will murder him.’

‘You’re an idiot, an honest to god idiot,’ Steve said, eyes squeezed shut in gleeful giggles.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry that I am a literary genius and you can’t comprehend classical literature like an esteemed individual such as myself,’ Bucky scoffed, mock affronted.

Steve slapped Bucky across the chest, and once again they fell into bouts of laughter.

 

Oh well. Maybe next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw the fit of the red shorts on Steve are like Armie Hammer's red shorts in Call Me By Your Name.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to tell Steve he has feelings for him.

‘How’d it go?’ Sam asked over the phone. Bucky was walking back to work, having just finished his lunch break.

‘Uh,’ Bucky said, pondering over whether to make excuses. ‘It didn’t.’

‘What do you mean it didn’t? You didn’t tell him?’ Sam asked.

‘Yep,’ Bucky replied, completely ashamed. ‘But, okay I was totally about to do it, but he spoke the same time I did and after that … the moment kind of passed.’

‘Kind of passed, what’s that supposed to mean?’ Sam asked, sounding a little peeved.

‘It felt kinda unnatural to say it when the moment had passed,’ Bucky mumbled, crossing the street hurriedly. Sam sighed on the other line. Bucky could feel the judgement and disappointment emanating from his phone. He walked into the building where he worked and headed for the elevators while waiting for Sam to continue.

‘Look, it’s fine. You’re right. This is about you anyway, you should do this on your own time. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to tell him. You shouldn’t rush it if you want it to be nice,’ Sam said.

‘Thank you, Sam, for understanding,’ Bucky replied sincerely.

‘Alright, I gotta go, see you later Bucky.’

‘Later, man.’

 

When Bucky arrived on the 23rd floor, he sat himself at his desk and let his head immediately fall onto the keyboard with a thud, eliciting an indignant ding from the monitor, and what he was sure was an error pop up. But he didn’t bother to look at it. It wasn’t important.

 

‘Barnes!’ Barton yelled from across the room, in his private office with actual walls and a window to the outside that he didn’t have to share with other people.

‘Mmm,’ Bucky groaned. ‘What?’

Barton didn’t say anything, but from previous experience with the man, he knew his boss wanted to see him. Heaving himself from his desk, Bucky dragged his feet across the floor and walked into Barton’s office, standing slumped by the doorway.

‘Wanted to congratulate you on your latest column, you outdid yourself on that one,’ Barton complimented monotonously with a momentary glance in Bucky’s direction.

‘Thanks?’ Bucky was confused. This wasn’t the really kind of thing Barton would call Bucky to his office for. At best it was the kind of thing that Barton would say when passing by Bucky at his desk.

‘There’s going to be an art exhibit opening in the new year at a local gallery — a friend of mine, brilliant artist,’ Barton added offhandedly, ‘— I’d like for you to attend the opening and write about it.’

‘Okay?’ Bucky said, still confused. Barton could’ve just emailed him.

‘Alright, good,’ Barton smiled, clapping his hands together. ‘I’ll send you the details closer to the date.’

‘Okay,’ Bucky repeated, remaining dumbfounded. Barton continued to stare at him, still smiling.

‘Is there anything else?’ Bucky asked hesitantly, body turned and ready to head back to his desk at Barton’s dismissal.

‘Yes! I hear you’re going to Tony Stark’s annual Christmas party,’ Barton stated. 

‘Yeah. I’ve been going since college.’

‘Cool. That’s cool. I want you to write about it,’ and just as immediately as he said that, Barton looked away from Bucky and began typing at his computer and resumed his work.

Bucky hesitated, ‘Uh, okay, see it’s kind of an intimate event. It’d be pretty fishy if a published magazine had a column about it.’

Barton threw his head back and laughed, ‘Buddy of mine took me to one of Stark’s Christmas parties once. I know for sure it’s the last thing from intimate. I think I remember the word “extravagant” just running through my mind the entire night.’

‘Yeah okay, I meant, I’m not there professionally, as some journalist looking to score something juicy to hand in to his boss on Monday morning. I’m there because I’m his friend.’ Bucky explained. He hoped Barton would understand and drop it, because Bucky would rather enjoy himself (with Steve) at this party instead of thinking about work. Also, Bucky knew Tony would reach extreme lengths to make this interview incredibly insane, just because they were friends and Tony loved to see him suffer. So he’d rather not be involved or even bear witness to anything Tony would come up with for something as simple as an interview with Bucky Barnes.

Unfortunately, Barton’s face lit up as Bucky said that. ‘Great! You can get an interview in very easily then. If you’re friends I’m sure Stark will let this happen once.’

Bucky didn’t know how to explain Tony Stark’s personality to someone who had no idea what he was like in real life, so he had simply nodded and returned to his desk.

 

*

 

‘You want to interview me?’

God, Bucky had regretted asking Tony already.

‘Look my boss was pretty adamant that this article has to happen,’ Bucky said with a tired sigh.

‘Okay, wait. Sorry, let me just process that again.’ Bucky groaned and rolled his eyes. Tony ignored him and continued, ‘You want to write about my annual Christmas party—’

‘My boss wants me to,’ Bucky interrupted through gritted teeth.

‘—And interview _me_ about it?’ Tony finished, looking disbelieving and incredulous all at once. 

‘Yes, I literally just said that,’ Bucky sighed. ‘Look, can you just tell me what decorations you’re putting up, the theme, the food, the colour scheme — the whole thing? I kind of had some plans for your party.’

‘Oh no, no no no. We’re going all out for this, we wouldn’t want to disappoint your boss,’ Tony began, eyes alight with the evil possibilities his mind had just conjured up. But then all of a sudden, that look was wiped out and replaced with a rather thoughtful and smug expression.

‘I’m sorry, did you say you had plans?’ Tony asked him, smirking. Bucky glared at him, though the furious blush blooming on his cheeks did nothing more than make him appear incredibly flustered and embarrassed at the notion. ‘D’you know what, I did hear from a good friend of mine that he’d finally be attending my Christmas party after years of absence.’

 

Bucky turned a deeper shade of red as he continued to glare at Tony. Steve and Bucky’s casual sex relationship wasn’t exactly a secret, it was just something they thought didn’t require sharing amongst _all_ of their friends. Unfortunately, Tony had stumbled upon them one evening and you can imagine the relentless shit he gave them for it afterwards.

 

‘Could that have anything to do with your plans?’ Tony teased, eyebrows raised suggestively. Before Bucky could spit back a feisty remark, Tony spoke once more, ‘Tell you what, I’ll let you come early, we can do the video interview beforehand, get some photos, write a few notes down so you can have your fun with Steve later on.’

‘What the hell do you mean video interview? We’re publishing this on a magazine with actual pages, Tony!’ Bucky exclaimed. Tony only managed to look slightly offended.

‘What, you don’t have a website?’ he squawked indignantly.

‘I mean, yeah but—’

‘What about a YouTube channel?’ Tony persisted. 

‘Not really, we don’t really do video interviews, Tony —’

‘That changes right now, put me on the phone with your boss.’

 

Barton was absolutely _elated_ at the idea of having an exclusive video interview with Tony Stark about his famous Christmas parties. Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t find it amusing at all. He was tired, disappointed in himself, and he wanted to go home.

 

*

 

‘Bucky!’ Steve yelled over the phone. Bucky winced and pulled the phone back a few inches from his ear. ‘You’re doing a video interview with Tony?’

Bucky cursed the heavens for ever being acquainted with Tony Stark.

‘What, is he telling everyone now?’ Bucky groaned. He was on his way home from Tony’s. The sun was setting over the skyline, the clouds scattered, glowing pink and blue.

‘Just me, I hope. He told me like he was convincing me to go to the party as if I hadn’t already said yes,’ Steve chuckled.

‘Well don’t get too excited about the interview,’ Bucky said, ‘my guess is that Tony will just film it himself, give me his own edit of the video, and let me hand it over to my boss.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Bucky’s one hundred percent certain that Steve was smiling at that moment. He could hear it in his voice. It was one of those feelings that he had about Steve, that was rooted deep inside him, like an internal detector of sorts. They were good feelings, they made him feel good. In love. Certain in both of them. The only thing left was to tell Steve. Which reminded him.

 

‘So, will I be seeing you tonight?’ Bucky asked, trying to maintain the eagerness as well as the anxiousness in his tone.

‘Uh, actually,’ Steve hesitated apologetically. ‘Tonight’s not really ideal for me, can we try again another night?’

Bucky’s brows furrowed. Odd. Steve _never_ called him for anything other than sex. Bucky noted that this was the first time Steve had ever called him about something that wasn’t sex. If Steve wanted to reach him, it was either through Natasha or a message on Facebook. He never called.

 

‘Yeah, it’s fine,’ Bucky replied quickly, before he pondered too long and let the silence swell between them. Before it created an awkward, unwanted wave of discomfort. 

‘Sorry. I just wanted to hear it from you,’ Steve laughed over the phone. Bucky was confused.

‘What?’

‘About Tony. I thought he might’ve been making it up. I needed to hear for myself, and congratulate you on this opportunity I suppose,’ Steve explained, voice delightful as ever.

‘Right, well it’s hardly something worthy of your praise, but thank you,’ Bucky said. 

‘Goodbye, Bucky,’ Steve laughed heartily.

‘Bye, Steve.’ Bucky replied, and he’d lingered on the phone several seconds before hanging up. He had hoped Steve would say, ‘Wait, I’m sorry. Can you actually come over tonight?’ So he could have some sort of a do over and have the chance to tell him again tonight. So it wouldn’t plague him in the morning.He knew it was pathetic to hope and to care but, since his revelation, it didn’t make sense why he wouldn’t. 

 

 

*

 

Bucky had exactly three more opportunities (which were not successful) to tell Steve since his first blunder. The first one happened again in Steve’s bedroom on one of their ‘date like nights’ before anything remotely sexual happened and the night was still young. The room was washed with a warm glow from the lamp on Steve’s bedside. Steve was by his desk, flicking through a box of tattered old records which had once belonged to his grandmother. He had been telling Bucky the history of a particular record that he couldn’t find, and had been laughing while he said it. Bucky had sat facing Steve’s back at the end of his bed with a glass of white wine in hand, and he had smiled at whatever Steve had said while not really listening at all (something about a raincoat?). His mind was far away, thinking of a possibility where he and Steve would be in this room, or any other room and call it theirs, in a house or an apartment or whatever they wished, as long as it was theirs. And it would be theirs because they wanted it to be. It would be theirs because they loved each other. They would drink their wine and listen to old songs and laugh at the personal histories of inanimate objects. 

 

‘Steve,’ Bucky had interrupted Steve’s animated chattering. The blonde turned around and looked at Bucky, his body twisted slightly, his other half still focused on the box of records in front of him.

‘Hmm?’ Steve hummed inquisitively, he had a soft smile on his face as he waited for Bucky. And, _god_ he just looked absolutely angelic. Soft blonde hair ruffled on top of his head, his cheeks dusted pink from all the wine he drank. Bucky was _fucked_. 

 

It seemed to take an eternity for Bucky to say anything in return, frozen in fear as well as in a state of turmoil and indecision as he tried to say what he needed to say. It wasn’t hard, yet it was also impossible.

 

_I’m beginning to develop feelings for you._

 

They were just words. They were incredibly meaningful and personal and vulnerable, but still words. Words he could say right now. Words that Steve should hear. Just words.

And yet.

 

‘I don’t think it’s silly,’ he said instead. Steve looked confused, like he had expected Bucky to say literally anything else. ‘I don’t think it’s silly that you used to have a matching rain coat, rain boots and umbrella.’

Steve’s eyes widened and he threw his head back and laughed, body still half twisted to face Bucky. ‘I was fifteen Bucky! I should’ve developed a sense of style by then,’ he argued and continued on with his story and turned back to face the box of records.

Bucky only smiled apologetically at Steve’s muscled figure, taking a sip of his wine and swallowing down the words he should’ve said.

 

 

The second opportunity happened, bizarrely enough, at a secondhand bookstore in Williamsburg. It was at two in the afternoon, and it was a slow day at the store. Bucky was in a back aisle scanning mindlessly for an obscure title. It was sunny outside despite the cold weather, and Bucky had been bundled up in his warmest coat and his softest sweater. He was looking along the spines of the books rather sleepily before a voice nearby startled him.

‘What was the title again?’ Steve asked. There was the indistinct sound of another voice on the other end of a phone talking back to Steve before he spoke again. ‘Okay, I’ll try and see if I can find that here. I think I saw it but I’m not sure, hang on.’

Bucky had walked out of the aisle he was in to find Steve in the next one over. He was dressed in navy blue that day and his blonde hair was falling across his forehead, nearly touching his eyes. He was looking through the lower shelves, eyes scanning attentively.

‘What’re you looking for?’ Bucky asked, leaning on the shelf as he looked on at Steve. The latter merely looked up at him, smiled, and resumed his perusing, as if it was normal to see your casual fling at a random bookstore in Brooklyn.

‘It’s called “Enigma Variations”. It’s a gift for a friend.’

‘You’re a hell of a friend if you’re coming to a place like this for a book,’ Bucky said. Steve was now looking through the second lowest row of books. 

‘I guess so. Maybe I’m also a bad friend who should’ve ordered it online instead of trying to get it on the day I was supposed to give it to my friend,’ Steve countered without looking up, fingers trailing along the spines of the books. 

‘Maybe you are,’ Bucky shrugged against the shelf. ‘Maybe your friend will understand.’

‘Hopefully,’ Steve corrected him. ‘Hopefully my friend will understand. Or hopefully, I find this book, and we both pretend this never happened … aha!’ Steve brandished the book he was looking for triumphantly, beaming with glee.

‘You and your friend are lucky.’

Steve looked up once more, his attention fully on Bucky this time. ‘How’s that?’

‘Well, your friend has someone in their life who cares so much about them that this someone would venture across a body of water, to a secondhand bookstore where god knows how long it has been since the books have last been organised correctly, to find them a gift.’ Bucky explained, voice quiet and soft. 

‘And why am _I_ lucky?’ Steve asked, looking on at Bucky earnestly. There was something in his eyes, though Bucky couldn’t identify it, couldn’t quite place what it was. Something that looked to be egging Bucky on, to do something or say something spontaneous, or surprising yet expected. To confess.

‘Because you actually found what you’re looking for here,’ Bucky said, almost breathlessly.

‘What about you?’ Steve said. ‘Are you lucky?’

‘I guess so,’ Bucky replied.

‘Why?’

 

_Because you’re in my life._

 

The expectant look in Steve’s eyes never wavered. Like he wanted Bucky to say what he was feeling, the same way Bucky wanted to say what he was feeling.

 

_I want more_.

 

Steve waited patiently. 

 

‘I guess I just am, with how things in my life worked out,’ Bucky mumbled instead. He cursed himself internally for failing to tell Steve the truth a third time. For being a coward. Steve dropped his gaze and looked to the floor, a sad smile on his lips. Like he was disappointed in the answer. Like he, like Bucky, had wanted more.

 

 

*

 

Bucky didn’t see Steve for two and a half weeks since their run in at the book store. Not even in Steve’s apartment for another date like night that ended in too-romantic sex. No, the next time they saw each other again was at Tony Stark’s Christmas party.

 

Tony’s Christmas parties were always at least a week before the actual day, so that they didn’t come in conflict with everyone’s holiday plans to go home and see family. He had done this since college — ever so mindful of his friends. 

 

As discussed, Bucky had arrived earlier for his interview with Tony — a camera in hand and a gleeful Tony Stark in front of it. Surprisingly, Tony had been very co-operative with the interview, though Bucky had a slight suspicion Pepper had something to do with it. Tony had showed off the decorations, talked about upholding his tradition of hosting the Christmas party every year among his friends, talked about the old estate the party was being held at — he was incredibly charming.

 

They concluded the interview in Tony’s “office”, which was more a lab than anything really, and when Bucky felt he had more than enough to hand in to Barton come Monday morning, Tony asked him, ‘Why did you interview me?’

Bucky blinked. ‘My boss came to one of your parties once, he said it just screamed extravagance.’

‘Yeah okay, I meant, I’m a genius billionaire scientist who has accomplished so much more than a Christmas party,’ Tony elaborated, waiting for Bucky’s reply. He looked genuinely curious.

‘We’re a lifestyle magazine, we’re interested in the life part,’ Bucky shrugged, zipping up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. Upon Tony’s astounded expression, Bucky asked, ‘Has no one ever interviewed you about your parties before?’

‘They sometimes make it on the front page of tabloids,’ Tony supplied, looking much too proud about it.

‘That doesn’t count and you know it,’ Bucky laughed. Tony fiddled with the ends of his sleeves a little, eyes cast downwards and in contemplation. It was odd behaviour coming from Tony. Like a turtle out of its shell. Tony was almost always in a confident state. Bucky waited patiently for what his friend had to say.

‘So, are you excited for tonight?’ Tony asked, glancing briefly at Bucky before conveniently finding some papers to fixate on while he listened. 

‘Of course,’ Bucky said immediately. It was one of the rarer times that he and a majority (if not all) of his friends were together.

‘I don’t mean the party,’ Tony looked up, suddenly serious. Bucky eyed him warily, confused as to where the conversation was heading. When he didn’t reply immediately, Tony continued, ‘I’m talking about Steve.’

‘Oh,’ and Bucky was at a loss for words. What exactly was Tony looking to get out of this conversation? Had he, god forbid, figured out Bucky’s secret? As ridiculous as the thought was, it wasn’t impossible for Tony to figure it out. Though it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t like Bucky was being blatant about his feelings. Or was he? Was he too transparent that even Tony Stark could see right through him? Oh god, and what would Natasha think? If Tony figured it out, she probably knew all along. Does Steve know? Has he known all this time, and continued with their arrangement out of pity for Bucky?

‘Last time I saw you, you were talking about some plans with Steve,’ and yet last time Tony talked to Bucky about it he was in much more of a gleeful and teasing state than this.

‘Um, I m-mean whatever happens, I guess, it’s not like we discussed it,’ Bucky mumbled, avoiding Tony’s eyes. He was in fact rather anxious to see Steve again. Given that he’d failed to tell Steve how he felt the last times that he saw him.

Tony’s face broke out into a grin, all seriousness melted away, ‘I’m kidding Barnes! God, lighten up it’s Christmas! I’m sure Steve’ll see you tonight, don’t worry too much.’

Bucky wasn’t as quick to ease up as Tony, still suspicious of Tony knowing his secret. He smiled tightly and nodded.

 

 

The guests arrived about fifteen minutes after Bucky and Tony concluded their interview, but Bucky was bored for another hour and a half until Steve had finally arrived. The guests had gotten comfortable by that time, music playing from a live band entertained them all, the people were loud and tipsy and happy. Amongst the already buzzing and loose crowd, Steve looked completely awkward and rigid, standing in the corner with his jacket still on, and stiff as a statue.

Bucky thought he looked adorable. Utterly lost, but adorable. Luckily, Natasha had found Steve within minutes of his arrival and had whisked him away to meet some people.

 

Bucky smiled slightly at the sight before slinking away to find himself a drink, and not any of the bullshit champagne Tony was serving. He knew Howard Stark had a hidden liquor shelf somewhere in the massive house. He walked away from the main party area and lurked around the quieter, less populated sectors of the house, in search of the liquor shelf. 

He couldn’t quite remember specifically which room it was in. If it was a library or an office or a lounge area. He remembered Tony giving a house tour on one of their weekends in the estate, but the memory of where the liquor hid was lost deep in the back of his mind.

 

The size of the mansion didn’t help make his search easy, the endless hallways and many doors and rooms just confused him further. Thankfully, the rooms were mainly empty, with not even a server holding a tray of drinks. The absence of others allowed him to think — well, okay, that would’ve been a pleasant description of the jumbled mess of thoughts in his head. It allowed the thoughts in his head to run free without distraction. 

 

He wasreally nervous. More so than ever, considering he had been putting this off for way too long. He was still petrified that Steve would reject him. What was he even going to say? How was he supposed to bring it up?

_Hey Steve, can we talk for a sec so I can tell you I’m in love with you?_ or _Hey Steve, I know what we had was mainly a physical thing, but I have feelings for you and I think we should date for real!_

Or even worse, _Hey Steve, I_ like _like_ _you._

 

Bucky had reached the end of a long hallway at that point. The noise from the party was distant. It was quieter there. On his right, was a bedroom, and though unoccupied, it was lit up completely. There were Christmas decorations all over, which Bucky thought was ridiculous considering the fact that hardly anyone was going to see it, or even stay in it.

To his left, was an arched doorway,and a room with high ceilings, also decorated in Christmas ornaments. Wooden bookshelves lined up all along the wall, with books neatly arranged from every corner of the shelves. The books varied in genre and appearance — some were old and tattered, and some looked brand new and untouched. Some were hardcover volumes of scientific research, and some were bright, romance paperbacks. It was truly outstanding. 

 

Inside the library, there were even more doorways and little nooks and hallways. One doorway led to an office. It was darker in there compared to the library. There was a large fireplace in the room, and a few lamps that provided a bit of light. Across the room was a mahogany desk that once belonged to Howard Stark. Like the library, its walls had tall bookshelves and had plenty of books, though the books were more on the professional, non-fiction side.

Behind the desk, and in the far corner of the room was another doorway. Curiously, Bucky crept towards it. The doorway revealed the shorter, more narrow hallway that Bucky had been looking for. _This_ was Howard Stark’s private bar that contained the hidden liquor Tony had shown them all years before.

 

There had still been plenty of alcohol left, almost like they never touched it at all. Which should have been haunting, but the thought of free, old, expensive booze was well worth ignoring that.

‘Oh, thank fuck,’ he sighed happily, bending down to pluck a bottle of whiskey from the lower shelf. It was astounding how many shelves there were to accomodate the amount of full bottles of alcohol.

‘You mind sharing?’ a voice behind him asked, and Bucky nearly dropped the bottle in pure _fear_. For a moment, Bucky thought that oh _god_ , maybe it really _was_ haunted, and Howard Stark had come to unleash hell on Bucky. 

As it turned out, it was only Steve. Which was, at the moment, a little bit scarier than the ghost of Howard Stark angrily haunting Bucky for stealing his liquor.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Bucky said shakily, clutching the whiskey close to him. ‘You scared the hell out of me.’

Steve laughed, bright and golden and warm. ‘Sorry,’ he apologised with a smile.

‘I don’t think you’re sorry at all you punk,’ Bucky muttered, smirking. He stood up straight and walked around the bar to find glasses. 

‘It was pretty funny,’ Steve hadn’t been able to stop smiling. Bucky found two glasses under the bar and brought them up. He opened the bottle of whiskey as he asked, ‘How’d you even find me? I was alone when I came here.’

‘I wasn’t actually looking for you,’ Steve admitted with asmall smile. God, he was just beaming tonight wasn’t he? The universe just couldn’t take a break on Bucky’s erratically beating heart and let Steve frown for once? 

‘I was looking for this place.’

‘Huh,’ was all Bucky said. He poured them their drinks, toasted Howard Stark’s ghost, and _wow_.

‘Oh my god,’ Steve gasped.

‘Howard had some _taste_ ,’ Bucky exclaimed in admiration. 

‘Well, not exactly. These bottles are full or completely unopened.’ Steve remarked, pouring himself some more.

‘So what, these are just for design? Jesus, he and Tony are a lot more alike than we thought.’ Bucky murmured to himself, and then very quickly added, ‘don’t tell him I said that, otherwise he’d never let me see this place again.’

Steve threw his head back and laughed. ‘What’re you doing here anyway? There were already plenty of drinks and entertainment back at the party.’

Bucky shrugged, ‘I got sick of it. I missed this place. Also, there were just way too many people back there. It got a little stuffy.’

‘This isn’t stuffy?’ Steve gestured to the tiny room they were in.

‘There’s only two of us in here Steve,’ Bucky rolled his eyes, with a little more affection than he meant to, but it was dark and he hoped Steve didn’t notice.

‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ Steve said softly, looking down at his glass and running his finger down its side.

 

They talked, for what felt like an eternity as well as no time at all. They talked about the snowfall, about the holiday, about old songs, about the scratch on the bar top. They talked about anything and everything until the bottle was considerably empty. 

 

‘Oh god, we’ve nearly finished this thing,’ Steve giggled. Bucky was laughing alongside him.

‘We should go,’ Bucky said suddenly. He’d become serious at once, and Steve mimicked him poorly. ‘We’ve been gone a while, we don’t want people to find our secret hiding spot.’

Sure, he might’ve slurred some of the words, but Steve seemed to understand him and even nodded seriously.

They hid the bottle at the back of the liquor shelf, and made their way out of the small bar. They were really close to one another. Bucky could feel the heat from Steve on his skin. He loved the way it felt against him, how it would give him goosebumps when their arms would press together, when their fingers would brush lightly against the other. They tried to walk side by side out of the doorway to the office but found the doorway was too small. They ended up stumbling back and falling on each other in a mess of drunken laughter.

 

‘We’re so fucking dumb,’ Steve burst out, pulling himself up. Bucky got to his feet too, and leaned on the doorway, smiling stupidly at Steve. God, he was so in love.

Love! That’s right, he was supposed to tell Steve. Steve, who merely looked on at him with the same, incomprehensible expression Bucky had seen Steve look at him with.

_Come on, Barnes, you’re drunk enough to do something dumb and courageous — well, this is it!_ He thought to himself. _Fourth time lucky?_

 

Steve hung his head against the wall and closed his eyes. 

‘Steve I —’ Bucky began. Oh god, he was really doing this. He was going to tell Steve he loved him. This was actually happening. This is what he’d been waiting for —

‘Mistletoe,’ Steve interrupted him before he could continue. Bucky furrowed his brows at him. Steve wasn’t even looking at Bucky. Instead, he’d opened his eyes and kept them fixated on the mistletoe hanging from the low ceiling of the arched doorway. 

‘Huh.’

Looking down from the mistletoe, Steve stepped in closer to Bucky. ‘Didn’t see that before,’ he breathed.

‘Neither did I,’ Bucky said quietly. They were moving closer to one another now, slowly. Steve’s eyes were flicking down towards Bucky’s lips.

‘Bet Tony did this,’ Bucky’s voice dropped to a soft murmur, their lips suddenly closer to the other.

‘Please don’t talk about Tony while I’m about to kiss you,’ Steve said, eliciting a breathy chuckle from Bucky.

‘You’re going to kiss me?’ he asked.

‘That’s what a mistletoe is for, right?’ Steve had brought his hand up to Bucky’s face.

‘Right.’ Bucky said, right before Steve pressed their lips together in a soft kiss. It was almost chaste and fleeting. Before they could even pull away, Steve was leaning in for more. Turning the kiss languid and slow. Gentle and affectionate. The whole thing was tender; the way Steve held Bucky’s face, the way Bucky lightly rested his hands on Steve’s waist. There was no roughness or urgency in that kiss. Like their conversation, time seemed irrelevant. And Bucky basked in it, so he could at least, for a while, pretend Steve was doing this lovingly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so bad at updating, i'm sorry lmao


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky hadn’t seen Steve since the Christmas party. They were both spending the holidays with their families — with Bucky and his family travelling to Chicago to be with their extended family, and Steve staying home in New York with his mom.

After they left the library and eventually returned to what was left of the party, they were immediately whisked away from each other. Natasha had taken Steve’s arm, rapidly mentioned a waiting Uber, and ushered him out the door. Steve hardly had enough time to wave goodbye to Bucky.

In Bucky’s case, he had blinked at Steve a grand total of one time before an arm wrapped around his shoulders and turned him to face an expectant crowd.

‘My guest of honour!’ beside him, Tony Stark’s voice boomed over the room. ‘James here writes for a magazine — _ooh_ , fancy, I know! — And he’s written about our lovely little party tonight!’

The crowd before them clapped and cheered drunkenly. Bucky wasn’t sure they even knew what Tony was saying. There had been _a lot_ of champagne that night.

After that, Tony had led Bucky to a spare room. 

‘Thanks a lot for tonight, Barnes,’ he’d said. ‘You can crash here tonight, don’t want you driving drunk.’

‘Tony this was your party, all I did was attend it,’ Bucky said, hiccuping a little. ‘Also, I took an Uber here. I’m fine to go home.’

‘I meant the interview, dummy,’ Tony scoffed. ‘And I insist that you stay here. There’ll be a breakfast buffet tomorrow for all the people that stay over.’ He’d sung that last part, raising his brows at Bucky expectantly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘Alright,’ he’d conceded, because he was way too drunk to even think about calling an Uber.

‘Did you have fun tonight?’ Tony asked, ‘with Steve?’ And he had sounded sincere, and genuinely interested.

Bucky smiled, he was blushing a little but he didn’t try to hide it. Or at least his drunken demeanour didn’t allow it. ‘Yeah, I did,’ he replied meekly.

‘Good. That’s good,’ was all Tony said before he’d clapped Bucky’s back and walked out of the room.

 

In the morning, Bucky was happy to find that there really was a breakfast buffet waiting for them. Mercifully, the breakfast buffet hadn’t been ready until late morning, which was when everyone was starting to crawl out of their rooms, tired and hungover. There had been a lot more people who stayed over than he expected. A lot of them, he noticed, were wearing customised pyjamas that said ‘I went to Tony Stark’s 2018 Christmas Party’. That elicited a soft chuckle and a shake of the head from Bucky.

 

*

 

After the New Year, and all the celebrations and excitement died down, life resumed as usual. It had been different for Bucky’s work life, though. The interview with Tony received a lot of buzz. It seemed everyone was dying to know what it was like at a Tony Stark Christmas Party. The video they produced had about eighteen million views since it was uploaded. So, the energy at work had been at an all time high — everyone was happy and inspired. 

The only thing bringing Bucky’s mood down was the fact that he _still_ hadn’t told Steve how he felt. And Sam. Sam was disappointed in him too. He had told him several times one night while they were hanging out watching a movie at Bucky’s place.

‘Seriously?’ Sam had asked. ‘Three times! You tried _three times_?’ 

Bucky had shrunk in on himself in shame. ‘I chickened out all three times,’ he admitted in a whisper. 

‘God, do you even want to date him?’ Sam asked, a little frustrated, though Bucky knew he meant well. Bucky only shrunk further in on himself.

‘I’m gonna do it for real this time, it’s my New Year’s resolution,’ Bucky mumbled.

‘Yeah right, kiss my ass with that resolution shit, that’s what you said _last_ time,’ Sam reminded him with an eye roll. ‘And you had three opportunities — and you blew them!’

Sam was right, but Bucky wouldn’t say that out loud. Instead, he spoke on, ‘I have to. Especially after what happened at the party.’

‘You guys kissed, you do that all the time,’ Sam pointed out. 

‘Yeah but everything that happened before and after was different. It’s what I know I want out of this,’ Bucky explained. ‘We talked for _ages_ before we kissed, kind of like a date, and then afterwards it was like it was enough, you know? Like there was more than just sex — for both of us.’

Sam regarded him with a look, a little speculative and calculating, but the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. He was happy for Bucky. 

 

So, staying true to his word, Bucky was going to tell Steve. For real this time. He didn’t care if he blurted it out randomly or if they talked it out for a long time. He _needed_ to tell Steve this time.  

Steve had called a few days after Bucky and Sam talked. His voice had sounded soft, affectionate. Bucky was eager to see him, grinning like mad over the phone. Surprisingly, he wasn’t nervous. This time he was certain about what he was doing.

 

*

 

When Bucky arrived at Steve’s house, there had been a bottle of wine waiting for them on the coffee table. They spent a few hours talking and laughing and drinking. Like the night at the estate, they talked about whatever came to mind. They were limitless.

Bucky had asked once, ‘Do you think Tony’s estate is haunted?’ Steve only laughed in response.

Steve had mentioned penguins, so Bucky began trying to recite the species of penguins he knew from memory. They had fun.

The sex was fun, too. They took things slow that night. Eventually, their conversation died out a little, and they had inched closer together until they were pressed against one another. Steve had kissed him, slow and soft. Tentative. Bucky had kissed back with a little more enthusiasm, but still trying to maintain gentleness in the kiss. 

He doesn’t know how, but they ended up in Steve’s bedroom. Steve had sat him on the edge of his bed, still kissing slow. He pulled away slightly to take his shirt off, but kept his eyes on Bucky’s. Bucky had been breathless watching Steve. The warm white light of the lamp had cast a soft glow on Steve’s body, whose eyes had been dark and had never wavered from Bucky’s own.

Steve leaned in and kissed him softly once, twice, before pulling away again — this time, to take Bucky’s shirt off. Almost immediately as his shirt came off, their hands were all over the other’s body, running all along the length of their torsos, across their chests — _everywhere_. Steve had pushed Bucky gently to lie on the mattress, and Bucky had obligingly laid down, his lips still on Steve’s.

Once Bucky had fully laid down, Steve had removed his lips from Bucky’s and began to kiss along his jaw, making his way down to Bucky’s neck, sucking sweetly just under his jawline. Bucky shuddered at the sensation. 

‘Hmm feels good,’ Bucky murmured into to the room, lightly tugging at Steve’s soft golden hair. He was growing hard under Steve’s touch. Steve had run his nails down the toned pane of Bucky’s stomach which had been electrifying, and had Bucky trembling under Steve. Steve only hummed in response.

Without warning, Steve pressed lightly at the tent in Bucky’s pants, rubbing slowly. Bucky had groaned, canting his hips up into Steve’s hold. Above him, Steve chuckled darkly. He continued to palm heavily at Bucky’s erection until Bucky was left writhing and panting beneath him.

‘C’mon, Steve,’ he pleaded after about ten minutes of teasing. 

‘Alright,’ Steve said, easing off of Bucky, who had been too dizzy with arousal to register Steve pulling his pants off him and taking his cock into his hands. Bucky had sighed blissfully at the touch, had hummed happily at the way Steve worked him beautifully and torturously. It seemed to last an eternity, and Bucky had been lost deep in the tingling sensation it brought. When he had been on the brink of orgasm, Steve had let go of him, and Bucky had whined high in his throat at the loss. Looking up, he saw that Steve was smirking. Bucky pouted petulantly at Steve, and was about to make a rather scornful (yet, not at all truthful) remark when Steve had rubbed a rough finger over his hole. 

‘I’m sorry, what was that?’ Steve said smugly. Bucky had thrown his head back into the pillows and tried not to moan. Distantly, he heard the sound of a bottle cap being opened.

‘Screw you, Rogers,’ Bucky uttered through gritted teeth, though there had hardly been any malice in his voice. At that, Steve pushed a finger in.

’I think you’ll find that it’s the other way around,’ Steve said thoughtfully, like his finger wasn’t currently in Bucky’s ass.

‘Yeah, yeah get on with it,’ Bucky hissed as Steve pushed his finger in and out tediously. Smirking, he pushed his middle finger in along with his index, stretching Bucky slightly. The stretch burned, leaving Bucky feeling hot and going rigid underneath Steve. His breaths were coming out in sharp exhales, waiting out the burning feeling, until the pain subsided and pleasure took its place. It only took a few, careful and deep strokes until that happened. Until Bucky was mewling into the pillows at the drag of Steve’s fingers inside him.

‘God, you look so fucking good,’ Steve murmured hotly into the room. In one quick moment, Bucky saw Steve look at him with lust filled eyes, before Steve leaned in and swept him up in a kiss, all while diligently thrusting his fingers into Bucky.

They remained that way for a few minutes, lazily kissing while Steve worked his fingers inside Bucky. It had felt nice, nothing too dramatic. Just an even buzz that rang through Bucky’s body. Bucky had felt sated and lazy and good. _So fucking good_.

That had changed when Steve had curled his fingers inside of Bucky, dragging the pads of his fingertips along the sensitive nerves within. Bucky had let out a loud, throaty whine at the sensation, not bothering to mask his pleasure in the pillows. 

‘Oh my _god_ , Steve.’

Steve only chuckled darkly. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as Steve rubbed his fingers against Bucky’s prostate again. Steve had smirked at Bucky’s squirming figure beneath him, letting out little _oh oh oh_ ’s and grasping at the sheets. 

‘God, I need more, _please_ , I want - auh - _more_ ,’ Bucky begged, eyes squeezed tight. 

‘Yeah?’ Steve asked.

‘Yes,’ Bucky gasped desperately. ‘Another finger, please, another one, I need it.’

Happily, Steve obliged, dragging out a ragged gasp of pleasure from Bucky, followed by a litany of _yes yes yes Steve_ ’s and the continued crumpling of Steve’s bedsheets. 

‘Is this what you wanted, huh?’ Steve whispered into his ear, rubbing his fingers over Bucky’s prostate torturously slow. ‘Does this make you feel good? Drive you crazy, huh?’

And yeah, it did drive Bucky crazy. He wailed at the absolute pleasure it brought upon him, at the electric feeling along his spine as Steve brushed his fingers against that sweet, sweet spot.

‘God, _nngh_ —’ Bucky tried to respond, but the only thing coming out had been a desperate cry. He could hear Steve chuckle darkly at the sight of him, still smirking no doubt. Bucky’s cries had been silenced by Steve, who had enveloped him in a hungry kiss as he removed his fingers from inside of a whining Bucky.

They made out for a bit, the kisses becoming more urgent than before, until Steve pulled himself off of Bucky, presumably to put a condom on. Bucky opened his eyes and looked up to see Steve trying to hold back a smile. 

‘Y’alright Rogers?’ Bucky laughed. Steve bit his lip, still trying to fight back his smile.

‘Yeah, I’m alright,’ he said huskily, leaning back down to kiss Bucky again. He’d kissed him deep and slow before he’d pushed himself inside Bucky, groaning breathily as he did. Beneath him, Bucky had clutched tightly at his shoulders, and inhaled sharply at the burning intrusion. He pulled away from Steve and gasped hotly into the room, while Steve had kissed along the side of Bucky’s face as he kept pushing in. 

‘Steve,’ Bucky whispered in a trembling voice, not really sure what he was asking for. Steve only hummed in response, still continuing to push in until he completely bottomed out, at which point he’d let out a small moan and nuzzled his face into Bucky’s neck, kissing at the spot just below his ear.

‘Steve,’ Bucky said again, reaching a hand to the back of Steve’s head and running his fingers through Steve’s golden hair, and tugging softly at it. Bucky was growing restless under him, wishing Steve would do _something_.

‘God, _move_ _please_ ,’ Bucky begged, his voice barely a whisper. Steve laughed against his neck, a deep rumbling sensation that sent ripples throughout Bucky’s body. He loved the way it felt. Steve shifted a little, resting a tight hand on Bucky’s waist before he pulled his hips back slowly, the feeling of his cock dragging inside Bucky drawing a soft cry from the brunette. Steve had resumed kissing the spot under his ear, lazy and slow, almost just sucking on Bucky’s skin, all while he rocked in and out of Bucky in an eye-rolling, and agonisingly slow pace. 

Bucky didn’t even know how long Steve had fucked him like that for — all sense of time, of reality, of anything that wasn’t Steve was gone. It was just him and Steve in the room and nothing else, not the soft glow from the lamp, not even the box of records Steve stored under his desk — just them. 

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Steve shifted above him, hovering directly above Bucky, still with that bitten back smile on his face and his hair now a complete mess. He leaned down and captured Bucky’s lips in a kiss, though this time it was firmer, with more direction and not so lazy. And Steve fucked him faster, rocking his hips quicker into Bucky, while the latter, caught a little bit by surprise, only gasped a moan into Steve’s mouth and held onto him tighter.

It wasn’t long before they both felt the familiar feeling of heat pooling at the bottom of their stomachs, their orgasms approaching. It had Bucky moaning a little louder, and kissing Steve with a lot more urgency and fervour. Steve had pulled away from their kiss, but he was barely a hair’s breadth from Bucky’s face, their noses still touching. 

‘You gonna come, Bucky?’ he asked, voice rough and throaty, breaths coming in short. 

‘Mmm,’ Bucky nodded with a whine, desperate to find release.

‘Yeah?’ Steve said, fucking faster and deeper into Bucky, chasing his own climax as well. ‘Come for me baby,’ he whispered, before smashing their lips together once more. As soon as he said that, they both came with muffled noises of pleasure, holding onto each other desperately as they rode out their orgasms, until they came down from their highs and eventually slipped off of each other to lay side by side on Steve’s bed.

They lay that way for a bit, just breathing, trying to catch their breath until their laboured panting had come to a slow, even rhythm. They were both lying on their backs, spread across the bed a little haphazardly. Bucky glanced at Steve, who had kept his baby blue eyes on the ceiling. He had a sort of sated and distant look in him. His usually light, blonde hair had darkened in sweat and stuck in messy clumps to his forehead. Despite that, he still looked beautiful — even more than usual. Captivating.

Bucky smiled at him fondly. He turned to his side and faced Steve fully.

‘Hey,’ he murmured so quietly it was like he hadn’t said anything at all. His heart had been thudding cacophonously in his chest, he was sure Steve could hear it — could hear how nervous he was.

‘Hey,’ Steve had murmured back, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. Bucky watched the steady rise and fall of his chest — watched with drowsy eyes and a small smile. There was nothing holding him back this time. No doubts or anxieties. It finally felt right to tell Steve. Bucky couldn’t understand why he was so afraid before. It felt like the easiest thing in the world, nothing mattered except that he told Steve how he felt. What happened before and after didn’t matter to him at all. All that he cared about was telling Steve. Saying the words he’d thought to himself a million times, the words he’d rehearsed to perfection weeks before. It was ridiculous, he thought humorously, he didn’t need to rehearse anything — all he had to say was, ‘Steve, I’m in love with you.’

What the hell had he been so fucking nervous about?

‘We’re going to have to stop doing this,’ Steve said.

Bucky blinked, then furrowed his brows. Steve didn’t look at him.

‘I’ve been seeing someone,’ he continued, eyes still glued to the ceiling.

‘Oh,’ Bucky said blankly. Steve hummed in response. ‘Is it serious?’

‘It seems to be heading that way, yes,’ Steve replied clinically, like he was explaining how the subway system worked. Bucky turned and lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, same as Steve.

Oh.

‘I really like her, y’know?’ Steve said, as if Bucky actually knew. As if Bucky knew what that felt like.

‘Yeah,’ was all Bucky could say.

‘We’ve been on a few dates,’ Steve continued, exhaling fondly, ‘and I … I just really fucking like her.’

Bucky didn’t understand why he couldn’t feel a thing. Not a single emotion. A distant thought in his head suggested that he was in shock, which … yeah, sounds right. He had also felt completely hollowed out, staring blankly above him. Every noise around him had been muffled except for an irritating ringing. 

‘I’m happy for you,’ he eventually said, though he sounded confused and insincere. He didn’t care if Steve noticed. 

‘Thanks, Bucky,’ Steve sounded genuine, like he was smiling. So, he didn’t notice after all.

The happiness Bucky had felt minutes ago had died down to emptiness. It felt as though it crawled out of him, and in its wake, left behind a meaningless carcass devoid of emotion. Unworthy of affection.

 

*

 

Shortly after their conversation, Bucky had made an excuse and left Steve’s house at four in the goddamn morning. In the last few months when Bucky would leave early, Steve would say, ‘Stay over. It’s too late to be going home.’ Now, he had only turned over in his bed and fallen back to sleep. 

It was over. There was nothing he could do.

In the empty carriage of the train, under the flickering fluorescent lights, Bucky sat numbly. His mind had slowed, everything around him had slowed down. Steve was interested in somebody else. He didn’t feel the same way about Bucky. He never had. Everything between them was purely physical.

God, he was so tired. He scrubbed his hands over his face, sniffing a little, fighting the sudden urge to cry. It wasn’t worth crying over, was it? If Steve never felt the same way, he shouldn’t cry about it. There had been nothing to cry over. It had been nothing at all, in the end. And _god_ , if that thought didn’t make his insides churn and the empty feeling within him swell.

 

*

 

At eleven thirty two in the morning, Sam arrived at their usual diner in a chipper manner. Bucky was sitting in the corner of a booth with his sunglasses on and looking very much like he was hungover. Sam jumped into the seat in front of Bucky, laughing, ‘wow, you look like shit.’

‘Mm,’ was all Bucky replied before taking a sip from his steaming mug of coffee. Sam had laughed at him again.

‘Cheer up, Barnes,’ he said. ‘It’s Saturday! What could possibly have you in such a shitty mood this morning?’

Bucky exhaled, staring down at the table. It seemed impossible to tell Sam what had happened.

‘Slept late,’ he grunted instead, taking another sip from the mug, the taste bitter and unpleasant in his mouth. Usually he drank coffee with at least three sugars and so much milk, it would barely be coffee anymore. Sam raised his eyebrows at Bucky, a knowing and teasing smirk playing at his lips.

‘Is that so?’ he sang smugly. Bucky grimaced, he had forgotten he told Sam where he’d be.

‘Could that have anything to do with the fact that you, sir, spent the night at Steve Rogers’?’

Bucky’s sigh only deepened.

‘I didn’t tell him,’ he said, hushed and exhausted. Sam frowned but didn’t say anything.

‘He told me last night that we had to stop what we were doing,’ Bucky began. ‘He’s seeing someone. They’ve been on a few dates and he wants it to get more serious.’

From his peripheral vision, Bucky could see Sam bow his head. 

‘I know you’re going to say that I should’ve told him sooner, or —’ Bucky began, but Sam had cut him off.

‘No! No, of course not. How and when you told him was your decision. I’m just sorry that it didn’t work out between the two of you,’ Sam said. ‘I care about you, y’know?’

Bucky was happy and grateful for Sam. He had been relieved to hear that. But he would never admit as much to his friend. ‘That’s gross, Wilson,’ he said with a weak smile. Sam had smiled back sadly at him.

‘I wanted you to know that I was going to tell him,’ Bucky said. ‘But it seems like every time I tried to tell him, something else happened. It’s like the universe doesn’t want us to get together.’

‘Fuck the universe,’ Sam declared. 

‘I just wish I told him sooner,’ Bucky said into his mug.

‘It’s not your fault, Bucky,’ Sam assured him. ‘I don’t want to see you beating yourself up over this, you hear me? You couldn’t have predicted that this would have happened.’

‘I should’ve told him,’ Bucky repeated. Sam reached across the table, took Bucky’s hand in his and squeezed. Bucky looked up into Sam’s eyes, brown and kind and right then, firm. 

‘We can’t control everything that happens in our lives. We can’t plan our lives exactly the way we want. It isn’t your fault that you didn’t tell him. It’s unfortunate, yes. But it still isn’t your fault,’ Sam said whole-heartedly. ‘It just didn’t work out the way you wanted to.’

Bucky had swallowed the heavy, clogged lump in his throat, looking down again. His eyes were burning a little, uninvited tears threatening to spill. He couldn’t say anything, and thankfully, Sam understood.

They spent the rest of their time at the diner eating copious amounts of food (on Sam’s end, anyway) and decidedly _not_ talking about Steve Rogers. Instead, they talked about work, about what tv shows they watched. Well, it was more Sam talking and Bucky saying a few things here and there. Bucky had let Sam babble on about whatever he wanted, it helped ease the heavy feeling he had been carrying since the early hours of the morning.

 

*

 

Two weeks passed and Bucky, decidedly, had completely avoided talking about what happened. It wasn’t like he pretended it _never_ happened, per se, but finding ways not to talk about it sure seemed like he was. It was good for him because he was more focused at work, and spent less time thinking about Steve Rogers. 

Sam was slightly concerned about that. Bucky being even more productive at work, was a wonderful thing. Why wouldn’t it be? But the problem was that Bucky regarded the experience as something of lesser importance by recalling it as embarrassing rather than important and impactful to his life. Despite how badly the situation went, it was still something that had the potential to shape Bucky’s life and future.

But since they were decidedly _not_ talking about it, Bucky threw himself into his work and got completely absorbed in it.And it was fine, it was better than what he was doing previously, which had been: sit at his desk, pine over Steve, do a bit of work, and pine some more.

With how busy they suddenly became over the new year, it was hard not to lose himself in his work.

‘Barnes!’ looking over his shoulder, Bucky saw Barton heading towards him. Barton had a phone to his ear, and several crumpled pages sticking out in all directions pointed at Bucky in one hand. ‘I need your latest piece on that new B&B in Phoenicia before five today,’ Barton said hurriedly, and Bucky gave a nod of confirmation, about to return to his work when Barton added, ‘Don’t forget tomorrow night is the gallery opening, I’d like you to interview the artist, some guests and have the whole thing ready before Friday.’

And in an instant he dispersed among his busy employees and left Bucky to his own devices, almost like a ghost.

Bucky had dutifully completed what Barton asked of him and more. He’d started preparing and working on what other projects he could. Barton had been more than impressed by his work ethic over the last few weeks and had praised him the only way he could — raising his eyebrows approvingly at Bucky over a steaming mug of coffee. 

 

The next day, Barton had given Bucky the day off of work, considering he had to attend an event later that night and he was caught up on all his work. Bucky went in anyway because it was better than being home alone with nothing to do, and with too much to think about.

‘Are you kidding me?’ Barton asked incredulously when Bucky had shown up to work. The office was buzzing.

‘I thought you could let me start on some new things,’ Bucky shrugged. Barton had regarded him with a very confused and disgusted look.

‘I give you a day off and you decide to come in?’ Barton clarified. Bucky rolled his eyes.

‘Is that a bad thing?’ Bucky pointed out. Barton scoffed. ‘If someone gave me a day off, that would be a godsend.’

Bucky opened his mouth to argue but Barton shook his head and pointed a finger at him and said sternly, ‘No, you know what? This isn’t up for argument. The only work you’re going to do is to go to the gallery opening tonight, and I know that that isn’t really “work” because you get free booze and food, but I still expect a level of professionalism.’

‘This isn’t fair!’ Bucky whined, stomping his foot like a spoilt child. Barton only smirked, shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Before completely disappearing in the busy throng of office employees, Barton called over his shoulder, ‘It’s a beautiful day Barnes, go out for a walk or something.’

‘It’s nine in the morning, it’s snowing and it’s dark outside,’ Bucky yelled back.

‘Even better, go home and go back to sleep,’ was all Barton said before he disappeared from sight. 

Bucky sighed. Even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to sleep, he’d had two large cups of coffee this morning, it’d be the afternoon before he would begin to feel bleary and tired. He glanced out the window, trying to figure out what to do in this weather. The idea of crawling back to bed and lying snug under his covers _did_ sound inviting. However, the thought of staying in, and letting his mind run free with too much caffeine in his system was quite repelling. He’d done a good job of _not_ thinking about what happened and he wasn’t about to start now. 

In the end he’d decided to go to a nearby cafe to have an early lunch. The cosy atmosphere of the small store appeased his desire to stay in and keep warm, and the busy and lively patrons helped to distract him from the jumbled thoughts in his head.

 

*

 

Bucky stood outside the gallery, trying to contact Barton. It was frigid out and Bucky was shivering, waiting for Barton to pick up. As the sound of Barton’s voicemail rang in Bucky’s ears, for the twelfth time, Bucky hung up bitterly, muttered some unsavoury things about his boss, and tried to call him again. 

The viewing started fifteen minutes ago, and Bucky arrived twenty minutes ago. He had almost walked in when it occurred to him that he had no idea who he was supposed to be interviewing. All he knew of the artist was from the sticky note Barton had given him that read: 

_Art Show @ Wilde Museum_

_SoHo_

_SGR_  

Bucky, who had been busy with other work, hadn’t really noticed that he was missing something essential until right before he opened the door to the gallery. So, for the last twenty minutes, Bucky had loitered outside, trying to reach his boss.

‘C’mon,’ he muttered into the ringing phone, watching as more people walked into the museum. He worried that it might get too crowded and in turn, be too late for him to conduct his interview with the artist. It’s never easy interviewing a drunk person, and it won’t be any easier interviewing five. He’d been to enough gallery openings to know that everyone just got drunk and tried to come up with something ridiculously ostentatious to say about the art when prompted.

By the eighteenth time Bucky had called, Barton still hadn’t answered, and it had been twenty minutes since the showing commenced. Peering anxiously into the museum, Bucky considered whether or not he should try calling Barton again, or winging it. He had hoped that his boss might answer, give him something, even the tiniest bit of information to go with, but with how late it was getting and how cold it already was, Bucky decided _fuck it,_ and went inside.

He was relieved to find upon entering that it was much warmer than outside, and even more relieved when he spotted Tony Stark by the bar.

‘Tony,’ he exclaimed. Tony looked his way and grinned.

‘Barnes! Lovely to see you so supportive,’ Tony said. Bucky knit his brows in confusion, though Tony didn’t offer much more explanation and had handed him a glass of wine instead.

‘No, thank you,’ Bucky declined politely, ‘I’m here for work. Maybe later.’

‘Suit yourself,’ Tony said. 

‘What are you doing here?’ Bucky asked him, ‘and can I interview you again?’

‘Same reason you’re here,’ Tony said, with a rather surprised look on his face, ‘in support of our dear friend.’

Bucky’s confusion deepened. He even considered, for a moment, whether he had fallen into another dimension, or if someone was playing a rather extensive prank on him. Before he could say anything, Tony continued, ‘what’s the interview about?’

‘This art show,’ Bucky murmured, looking around. ‘I’ll have a look around first and come back to you.’

 

It was a small exhibition, intimate and cosy. Everyone either seemed to know each other or were very friendly and comfortable. The artworks themselves were beautiful — _and Bucky doesn’t throw that word around generously_. The exhibits he’d been to were almost always pretentious and everyone around pretended to understand it when they didn’t at all. That was not the case with this one.

Bucky was in awe. The artworks were genuinely good. Scanning the room, he noticed that the artist had mainly exhibited photographs and paintings — most of which were portraits.

One in particular caught his eye — a painting called ‘J’, which displayed a sleeping figure washed with warm orange light. The figure in the painting had its back turned towards the viewer, and the figure was naked save for the thin blanket pooled around the waist. In truth there was nothing special about it, but Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the image.

Working his way around the crowd, Bucky began interviewing people. A lot of the people he interviewed had very simple and positive remarks about the exhibit. 

‘It’s definitely more mature and is more expressive than his last showing,’ one woman, Maya, commented. ‘He’s come a long way.’

‘How so?’ Bucky asked. 

‘He was holding back before,’ Maya said thoughtfully. Bucky continued the interview with Maya, delighted with her answers and her opinions, she really knew what she was talking about. Once he had been satisfied with her truly insightful and honest responses, he thanked her profusely and left in search of more people to interview.

 

The next person, Tom, had very simple words to offer. 

‘The art is good,’ he said definitively. Bucky looked at him expectantly. ‘Is that all?’

Tom pondered for a moment, and then confidently said, ‘The art is good and it’s easy to understand.’

_Okay_ , Bucky thought with an internal sigh, _going to have to embellish the hell out of this._

Before Tom could leave, Bucky asked him one more question, ‘where’s the artist?’

Tom only squinted at Bucky, and said, ‘how should I know?’

 

Bucky smiled grimly and moved on to interview someone else. There was another guy, Richard, who looked no older than twenty, who was really reaching with his interpretations of the artworks.

He had very extensive, and completely unnecessary and untrue explanations of the artworks, that Bucky really just didn’t agree with. Bucky had scribbled drawings of stars on his notepad the entire interview. Once they ended their conversation, he once again asked, ‘where’s the artist?’

Richard craned his neck and looked around the room, before giving him an apologetic look.

Bucky thanked him and walked away.

He moved to the centre of the room, where there had been a cluster of people gathered around a portrait of a woman sitting alone, outside a restaurant. Bucky guessed Paris, maybe. The most alluring thing about the painting was the woman’s lips, bright red and dangerously seductive. She was incredibly beautiful. It was titled ‘Carter’, and everyone was in awe looking at it.

‘Bucky?’ someone called incredulously. Bucky froze immediately, the familiar voice sending chills to his spine. He turned and to his right, coming directly towards him was Steve Rogers, grinning brightly and looking so delighted. Bucky turned on his most charming smile and said, ‘Hey, Steve,’ as pleasantly as he could.

‘What are you doing here?’ Steve asked, he seemed very surprised by Bucky’s presence. Not irritated, though, just surprised. He looked beautiful as ever — baby blue eyes alight with excitement and cheeks dusted pink. 

‘Work,’ Bucky said. ‘I’m writing about this exhibition.’

‘Oh, that’s wonderful! Clint said he’d send someone over,’ Steve’s smile remained wide and genuine as ever, mocking Bucky and his feelings.

‘You know Clint?’ Bucky asked, and Steve nodded.

‘Yeah. He’s an old friend,’ Steve explained brightly. ‘What do you think of this whole thing?’

‘It’s great, really,’ Bucky said honestly. ‘They’re truly amazing pieces of art.’

Steve threw his head back and laughed, ‘I’m glad you think so, it means a lot.’

Bucky frowned, staring at Steve (who remained smiling and happy) for way too long, before it clicked. ‘ _You’re the artist_ ,’ he gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at Steve. The happy expression melted into a puzzled one as Steve said, ‘you didn’t know?’

‘Barton didn’t say anything about it at all,’ Bucky explained, still in awe. ‘He only wrote down the address and your initials.’

Steve’s smile resumed its place on his beautifully sculpted face. ‘That sounds like Clint,’ he said.

‘You’re incredibly talented,’ Bucky complimented him a little breathlessly, completely forgetting that he was supposed to feel at least a little peeved and hurt at seeing Steve.

‘Thank you,’ said Steve sincerely, looking directly into Bucky’s eyes. The feeling that gave him had been warm and had chilled Bucky at the same time. Looking away, Bucky pointed to the painting of the woman and asked, ‘who is this woman?’

Steve tore his eyes away from Bucky and looked at the painting. ‘One of my best friends, Peggy Carter.’

‘Is she here tonight?’ Bucky asked.

‘Sadly, no. She’s in England, working,’ Steve replied.

‘She’s beautiful,’ Bucky breathed. Steve hummed in agreement.

‘Don’t be fooled,’ Steve said fondly, ‘she can have you in a chokehold in under ten seconds and have you begging for your life if you do her wrong.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Bucky laughed easily.

 

‘She’s getting a lot of attention tonight, isn’t she?’ a voice behind Bucky commented. Beside him, Steve chuckled affectionately.

‘Yes, I admit, she is,’ Steve said. Bucky turned around and was face to face with a smirking woman, with gorgeous brown hair falling in slight curls over her sun kissed shoulder. She had levelled Steve with a satisfied stare and a knowing grin. Bucky looked between the two of them, confused. The woman, sensing Bucky feeling left out, looked to him and stretched out her hand.

‘Julia Ryan,’ she introduced herself. Before Bucky could reply at all, Steve spoke up.

‘God, I’m so sorry. Julia this is Bucky Barnes, Bucky this is Julia, my girlfriend.’

Oh. _Girlfriend._

Still dumbfounded and slack jawed at the newfound information, Bucky struggled to find words to say in response to them. Luckily for him, Julia was quick.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ she said with a charming smile. ‘Are you a friend of Steve’s?’

‘I’m here to interview him,’ Bucky said, still a little in shock. Julia’s smile widened and her eyes lit up. Steve, who had stood beside her upon introducing them, had furrowed his brows and turned his lips into an unreadable expression.

‘That’s wonderful!’ Julia said in awe. ‘Don’t you think he’s done such a spectacular job?’

Bucky nodded. ‘And I was right about Miss Carter, wasn’t I?’ she’d turned her attention on Steve and smirked.

‘Yes, I admit defeat,’ Steve said with a fond smile. 

‘I’d told him to put the painting of Peggy in the centre because I knew everyone would love it,’ Julia explained to him, affectionately rubbing at Steve’s shoulder. ‘But my Steve’s stubborn,’ she said, ‘he wanted another painting, _J_ , to be the centre of attention and didn’t come around to the idea until about fifteen minutes before the gallery opened.’

Bucky glanced at Steve who had shrugged shyly. ‘It’s my favourite,’ he explained.

Bucky only nodded, still reeling from hearing Julia call him _My Steve._

‘But you were right,’ Steve conceded, still smiling at Julia. ‘ _Carter_ is everyone’s favourite.’

Julia had smiled back at him, with a tender expression, and Bucky felt like he was intruding on what was supposed to be an intimate moment.

He cleared his throat and said, ‘I’ll have to interview you later, Steve. I want to look around more.’

Steve barely gave Bucky a glance as he walked away, heading straight for the bar, deciding to have that glass of wine now … or perhaps something even stronger.

 

At the bar, he had opted for whiskey, and after about twenty minutes of sitting there, he was nursing his second glass and looking through the interviews he’d done that night, but couldn’t find it in himself to focus. His mind had been replaying the entire interaction with Julia and Steve since he’d left their company. _My Steve_ , she’d called him. That had bothered him the most. Not that she hadn’t any right to do so, but because she _did_. And Bucky would never. He would never get to sidle up against Steve in public, wrap an arm around his waist, and fondly declare that Steve Rogers was his, and that in turn, he was Steve’s.

He would never get to fondly argue with Steve over which artworks should go where in Steve’s exhibit. He would never be with Steve Rogers at all.

 

‘What’s got you looking so surly?’ a voice asked behind him. Bucky turned to see Tony Stark taking the empty seat beside Bucky and giving him an expectant look. Bucky sighed.

‘Nothing, just tired. I’ve been reading through these interviews,’ he explained blearily. ‘Which reminds me, can I interview you again?’

Tony had been more than happy.

 

At around ten twenty, nearly two hours since Bucky arrived, people were beginning to leave. Bucky was still sat with Tony at the bar, their interview long finished, and instead they had caught up on each other’s lives. 

‘So,’ Tony began, a little apprehensively. ‘Are you and Steve… still uh …?’

Bucky quickly cut in and said, ‘no, we’re not.’ 

Tony had exhaled a sigh of relief. ‘Good,’ he said, glancing between Bucky and, from the distance, Steve and Julia. ‘Because this would be a little awkward.’

‘I wouldn’t have an affair with him,’ Bucky said a little defensively. ‘We broke it off two weeks ago.’

‘Are you happy for him?’ Tony asked sincerely, ignoring Bucky’s defensive tone. Bucky looked over at Steve, who was standing by one of his portraits, talking to someone, and beaming proudly. He bit his lip.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘He’s done a great job with this exhibition.’

Tony frowned a little, and looked like he was about to say something, but instead he only smiled at Bucky.

Steve had come over to where they’d been sitting at the bar, cheeks pink and still smiling brightly.

‘Hey,’ he said a little breathlessly. ‘We’re going out for drinks after this, d’you want to come along?’ He looked at Bucky pointedly when he asked. Bucky looked between Steve and Tony, hesitating on how to decline the invitation. The last thing he wanted to do was to spend a few more hours in close proximity with Steve and his new girlfriend, where alcohol would be present.

‘Uh,’ he began, but Tony interrupted him.

‘C’mon Barnes, it’ll be fun. You can get wasted, drinks are on me,’ Tony laughed. 

‘I don’t know,’ Bucky said, ‘I’m really only supposed to be here for work, which I have to go in for tomorrow.’ A lie. He really didn’t need to show up. This piece on Steve’s exhibit was his only work for the moment.

‘Aw, it’ll be fun Bucky,’ Steve said encouragingly. Tony jabbed Bucky’s side and said, ‘it’s a celebration, Barnes. Come out and have fun with us!’

‘Yeah, what Barton doesn’t know won’t kill him,’ Steve laughed, eyes crinkled in delight. Bucky really wanted to say no…

‘Alright,’ Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘But only because you’re paying,’ he looked pointedly at Tony. 

 

They ended up at a cosy bar two blocks from the museum. There had been almost a dozen of them at most, but Bucky only knew Tony, Steve and Julia — and he didn’t really know her at all. It was a little awkward, and he felt out of place most of the time. He’d sat next to Tony, but it seemed everyone wanted a taste of the billionaire’s life and what he had to say, so Tony was always getting pulled into conversations. Steve and Julia sat close to one another, and every one of their friends consumed most of their time, celebrating Steve’s success and showering him with attention. Bucky was really just a fly on the wall. 

 

About an hour since their arrival, Tony was finally free from conversation with the others, and had turned his attention back on Bucky.

‘Can’t help it if they love me,’ Tony said smugly, but Bucky knew he felt bad.

‘Certainly can’t,’ Bucky chuckled, taking a sip from his drink. He’d ordered a beer and had been taking regular sips since they arrived. He really hadn’t been in the mood to go out. He certainly didn’t want to watch Steve Rogers and his new girlfriend look lovingly into each other’s eyes.

 

‘Can I have everyone’s attention please?’ Steve said loudly over their large group. Everyone around them fell into silence. Steve stood from his seat and cleared his throat, ‘Um, I really would like to thank you all for being here tonight. For showing up to my exhibition, and for supporting me, every one of you.’ The group of strangers clapped and whooped for Steve, and Steve smiled bashfully in return, cheeks flaring pink.

‘I’d really like to thank Julia especially,’ Steve said fondly, hiccupping a little in his drunken excitement. ‘She’s helped so much in the last few weeks. I couldn’t ask for anyone better.’

Someone to Bucky’s right yelled, ‘it’s about time!’ and their group erupted in amicable laughter and teasing whoops. Julia, smiling beautifully and looking radiant under Steve’s praise, stood up and gave her boyfriend a sweet kiss. Their group of friends hollered childishly at the display of affection, and Bucky decided he’d had enough. 

‘I should go,’ Bucky declared with an exhale. He didn’t want to spend another hour feeling totally lost with all of Steve’s friends.

‘Are you sure?’ Tony asked, ‘I’ve barely even talked to you. And you’ve only gotten one drink, I told you, tonight was on me!’

‘I’m really not in the mood to drink anymore, Tony,’ Bucky said. ‘And I don’t know these people. They don’t care about me. You’re better off alone here because at least you’re someone worth caring about.’

Bucky could only describe Tony’s expression as aghast. 

‘That sounds horrible,’ Bucky cringed, waving Tony off. ‘I meant, I feel out of place. You’re at least good at talking to people so you’re fine. Besides, wonder boy over there’s too busy talking to his friends. I’ll see you another time.’

Tony didn’t seem to know what to say. He’d open and close his mouth while he scrunched up his face in thought. He settled on saying, ‘do you need a ride home? Because I can get Happy here to drive you.’

Bucky threw his head back and laughed, and waved Tony off once again. ‘I’ll be fine, I’ll take the subway,’ he reassured his friend.

It struck Bucky as odd, seeing Steve with his friends. Bucky had only ever seen him alone in all their time together. It made Bucky realise how little he really knew Steve. How small a part he played in this beautiful man’s life. He hadn’t even known Steve was an artist until tonight! He felt like an idiot for thinking he could ever have some semblance of a relationship with him, when he barely knew Steve at all.


End file.
